Sunday, January 18, 2009

My (Al)most Embarrassing Moment

Two-thirds of my children have been sick this week, which means I've been housebound since Tuesday. Yesterday, body temperatures were manageable, if not normal, and we were all headed for stir-craziness if we didn't get out of the house. So CPod and I bundled up our younguns, piled them in the car and went to run some errands.

We stopped at a few places, meandering up to a certain purveyor of rotisserie chickens and yummy side dishes. We ordered our food, got the kids corralled into a booth and sat down to eat.

It was at this point that I realized I had an urgent need to use the facilities. I scooted on over to the bathroom, did what I had to, and then washed my hands. As I turned to leave, another person came in . . . a little boy, about 10 years old or so. Who looked at me kind of strangely. I smiled and reached for the door handle, and then, glancing to my right, noticed . . . a urinal. Which they don't usually install in women's bathrooms, right? Right.

Come to think of it, I had wondered why the restroom only had one stall.

I wasn't really embarrassed, just a little alarmed that I hadn't noticed something so basic. CPod sure had a good chuckle, though.

But can you imagine how it could have gone? It could have been OH so much worse.

Imagine if I'd been in the stall and seen some manly shoes under the door waiting their turn. I'm sure I would have thought he was the one who had made the mistake -- especially since I didn't see the urinal until I was on my way out. And I would have said something . . . like, "Hey, um, I think you're in the ladies room." And he would have glanced significantly at the urinal and I would have averted my eyes lest he do something, you know, totally expected in a men's washroom, and slunk back to my table.

I shudder to think what wold have happened had I walked in on someone in midstream.

And worst of all, I'm having nightmares now about being accidentally stranded in the men's room stall, trapped by an endless stream (couldn't resist) of urinal users with no opportunity to escape from under cover without being noticed. Oh, the horror.

Next time, I'll pay closer attention. I'm the bald one in the ugly A-line dress, with cankles and absolutely no boobs, right?

11 comments:

Oh I have SO BEEN THERE! This summer we were in Park City for a day. It was late in the afternoon and I'm sure I hadn't had enough protein, but really, it was no excuse. I had already used the woman's restroom in this place once, but I just wasn't paying attention. And so I just walked straight in...and wondered why there were fewer stalls than I remembered. And then noticed the young boy standing at the urinal. And then walked out and screamed...it was not my finest moment. (And if you want to hear my more recent embarassing moment...you'll have to e-mail me at crayz2sew at earthlink dot net. Cause you would be entertained, but it's not for public consumption!)

That is too funny! I will never look at the "bald, ugly A line dress, canckles, and no boob" lady the same way. That description cracked me up! Honestly, I don't think I've ever even thought about it. You crack me up!

Hilarious! Did you really write, "certain purveyor of rotisserie chickens"?

I was just as confused as you with the 10 year old walking in. Well written!

When I was 8 months pregnant with Avee I was at a crowded movie theater (cheap theater in Provo) and walked into the men's room. The worst part about that was not the embarrassment, as much as it was my indignation and anger as I walked further and further into the men's room, seeing all these pervs and creeps completely violating my privacy. My only defense is, I was pregnant and like my husband so profoundly said about someone once, "She's either pregnant or crazy". I'm a lil' bit of both. :)

Tears streaming down my face ... I SO needed that today!!! I agree with the previous commenter - I will NEVER look at the bald one in the ugly A-line dress with cankles and absolutely no boobs the same again! At least in Hawaii they put a lei around the neck on the sign :)

Pennies from heaven . . .

To Comment, or Not to Comment?

I write for personal enrichment. It forces me to use my brain, improve my vocabulary, focus my energies, and exercise my talents. Even if there is only one person out there besides my blood relatives who reads a word I've written, I want my writing to be as clean and polished as possible for that one person, and for myself -- because I am a bit of a perfectionist, and because I have found that it is a singular pleasure to go back to old posts and reminisce about what my kids were doing, or what I was thinking about. I am grateful that even though I can't remember what was happening in my life six months ago (precisely) I have recorded something of the thoughts and events I was experiencing then.

I also read for personal enrichment. Sometimes I comment, sometimes I don't. But I never (can I say it louder? NEVER) comment just because I want someone else to comment on my blog. I would call that insincere. I would call that fake. I would call that a bit too much like middle school for comfort.

I comment when I feel moved to comment; when I have some valid question, or an answer for someone else's; when I feel inspired by someone's post, be it hilarious or harrowing or heartfelt. But I don't not comment because I disliked something. Sometimes it's just the opposite, and I feel like anything I could say would seem trite next to the extremely wonderful post I've been reading.

I expect the same of you, dear readers! Don't comment on my blog just because you want my comments. You may or may not get them, and if you do, it will have nothing to do with reciprocity. The only thing that will get me to comment on your blog is content.

So. I write for me. I read for me. Sometimes I comment. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I get comments. Sometimes I don't. But either way, I'll still be writing. And either way, I will have many happy days of reminiscing and remembering in the future because I had the wherewithal to write down some stuff about my life.

Contact Me!

Follow, Follow Me

About Me

You can call me InkMom (as in I'm Not Crazy Mommy, except with a K instead of a C because I don't want to be IncMom). I have been happily married to CPod since day one, which was just about 12 years ago. We have three little boys: G-Dog and ConMan are twins (they are 4), and Lil' MayDay just turned 3. We recently welcomed some more diversity into our family when baby girl Miscellany joined the crew.
We live in beautiful western North Carolina, and we love it, and we will never leave because I go through separation anxiety when I think about residing some place outside of these mountains. I am a mom, a musician, a teacher, a bookkeeper, a writer, a housekeeper, a scullery maid, a thinker, a runner, a daughter and a sister . . . but you'll learn all that eventually if I keep posting and you keep reading.